


Stupid shit I do

by orphan_account



Category: American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: BUT I PROMISED A PROPER JEFFMADS, Benjamin Franklin is a doctor, Cuz Ham knows Jefferson so well they might as well be fucking, Hamilton - Freeform, I dunno it depends if anyone actually likes this, I kinda teased at Jamilton I guess, LIKE A DOCTOR DOCTOR, M/M, MIGHT NOT HAPPEN UNLESS I ACTUALLY WRITE THIS., Might get a few chapters?, Okay all that stuff that happens with franklin, Puking., Sickfic, Thomas avoids being taken care of, Thomas is a bad sick person., jeffmads - Freeform, thomas is sick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-18 07:15:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,317
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9373940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This might get multiple chapters because this is very obviously a first chapter™Thomas Jefferson has gotten sick. It was bound to happen at some point, he's always taking care of James. He's rather reluctant to let himself be taken care of, or acknowledge that he's even sick.Probably the Hamilton Jefferson, but hey it's up to you pal/\Aka basic sickfic. Requested by my pal Booplesnoot.





	1. I don't know its just really bad

**Author's Note:**

> Title of this fic is from Training Wheels by Melanie Martinez because I am not creative. So yeah. Plus this entire thing is Thomas doing stupid shit, so, it's okay.

When James got sick, Thomas never left his side. Everything was attended to, humidifiers in any room James was in, lots of blankets, and James' favorite tv show playing somewhere he couldn't see from underneath his mountain of blankets. Why shouldn't Thomas get the same care?

Despite the fact that he looked like an extra from The Walking Dead, Thomas went in to work Tuesday morning. He was ignored by nearly everyone while walking in, which he was very thankful for. He was usually passing secretaries, who at the most said a 'good morning', then continued with their work. Well, at least none of them had noticed. He wasn't that ill if no one had commented on it... right? Even if he knew that was absurd, he clung on to his reasoning. It was the only thing he had that kept him from going back home....Not that home was bad.... Home was just filled with James being anxious and hovering over him. Was he like this when James was sick? Yes. But at least James seemed to like it. Thomas wasn't a big fan of constant attention when he was sick. He wanted to go into work, it was just a little cold and it would not stop him.

Hamilton noticed first.

When Thomas came into the room, hair completely devoid of it's usual bounce, and trudging his feet, Alexander immediately knew something was wrong.

(Some might call that suggestive, but Alexander would simply wink and walk away if asked.)

"Thomas! THOMAS OVER HERE! WHAT'S WRONG!?!" He called, waving his hands from behind his desk.

Thomas winced and glared at Alexander, "Keep your voice down, asshole." Thomas was usually sound sensitive, being sick just made it worse. Add in a screaming Hamilton, and you were more than halfway to hell. He settled himself at his desk in the corner, not even bothering to take his usual spin in his swivel chair.

"Language, Thomas." George warned, not looking up from the paperwork on his desk to take in the condition of his Secretary of State. "Wouldn't want to start the day off on the wrong foot, now would you? I actually need you to go through this, I don't quite know what it means so if you co-"  
"I CAN DO IT!" Alexander snatched the paper from George, earning a glare. "What? I know more about pretty much everything than him, plus I don't look and smell like the plague."

That brought the President's eyes to Thomas for the first time, his eyes widened wider than Alexander thought humanely possible, "You look god awful! What are you doing here!?" He rushed over to the man, yanking him forward, in no way gentle. "OUCH." Thomas snapped, pulling away, but Washington's grip was similar to stone, and the large man was unmovable. The three politicians stayed in the same positions for what seemed like hours as Thomas struggled, before George finally spoke up.

"Well, Hamilton, might as well make yourself useful and call his emergency contact... Mr. Madison, if I am not mistaken?" He glanced down at Thomas like he was searching for confirmation, even though he knew he wasn't going to get it. 

"I'm not sick,  _George_! Stop treating me like a child! I am thirty-three years old, that is old enough to take care of myself, thank you very much." Somehow, he'd managed to calm himself down by talking. He no longer punctuated his statements with a thrash, but by the end of it he was smiling contently to himself. 

"You have a fever." Washington challenged, and just as Jefferson began to start his rant again, Alexander called back : 

_"James is on his way."_

Dreading your boyfriend coming to pick you up from work was, quite frankly, fucking stupid. 

Thomas just didn't want to sit down and be taken care of, which was probably why he was groaning in the corner while Washington went back to work. How did he even get sick? He was always so careful when it came to stuff like that. He kept hand sanitizer in his back pocket ( though he hadn't the energy to use it all day), he went to the doctor regularly, he took decent care of himself...everyone gets a cold sometimes...just not him. James was the sick one. God, he was going to be so upset. Why? Thomas didn't know... he just knew he would be.

Eventually Thomas fell asleep, curled up against the wall, the sound of Hamilton aggressively typing something on his computer vaguely registering in his mind. 

He felt like he was going to throw up...totally not sick, though.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas gets dragged home and he still feel like shit!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this came so late! Its also unbetaed because I wanted to get it done today. Those lovely comments shamed me into productivity. Also I'm bad at jeffmads so,,, sorry for that too. 1/30/17- Pierre

Thomas could barely hear James talking to someone, Mr. Washington, he was sure. Nobody else was that loud on accident. He stuck one leg out from the blanket that had been spread around him and groaned audibly, turning James' attention to him. 

"Thomas, Thomas go back to sleep. Its okay, we're going home in a bit." He promised, pulling the blanket back onto Thomas. 

"'m not sick, it's fine. I'm fine." God, did he really sound that bad? No, there was no way he sounded that...feeble. He could barely hear himself, and what he did hear sounded muffled. 

"Thomas just go back to sleep." James insisted, backing away, He trusted that Thomas was too tired now to run off again.... And if he tried, James would be able to see and just set him back down. 

"How did he even get here?" Alexander pried, stating down at Thomas' not quite sleeoing-but-not-quite-away form on the floor, while James sighed. 

"I think he went out the window." 

"He went out the window? Are you serious?" It didn't seem like a rhetorical question, Alexander genuinely didn't believe that Thomas, in his sickly state, could crawl out of a window and walk to work. No way. 

"Why would I lie? Whatever, Mr. Washington,if its okay with you, I'd like to take Thomas home so he can get some much needed rest." 

"Of course." George nodded, and went back to work, dragging Hamilton behind him. 

"Alright...let's...get you home." James approached Thomas with caution, "No running off to work this time, alright? I promise you'll get better faster if you just come home." He stretched out a hand that Thomas grudgingly took, "Promise?" He sniffled, leaning back against James for support. "Promise." 

\---  
James didn't hold up to his promise, at least not in Thomas' eyes. Two days later and Thomas was still bedridden, still vomiting once or twice every few hours. "You told me I'd get better faster if I came home and rested." He whined around the thermometer in between his lips. 

"I called the doctor this morning, he's going to make a house trip. You're going to be okay I promise, just a little cold." 

"If it was just a little cold I would have shaken it by now." 

The thermometer beeping felt tumultuous to Thomas, his headaches had been persisting though the ordeal so far, and it didn't seem like they were going to relent. Not while he was ill, at least. 

James sighed when he pulled the thing out.  "Not good news?" Thomas guessed, drawing his knees up to his chest. 

"Not exactly. 99. Better than the 102 you were packing yesterday, but still a fever." 

"Noooooooo." He groaned, rolling over to bury his face into what he fondly referred to as 'Pillow Mountain' (He had lots of pillows.) "Are you sure you read it right? It really says that?" 

"Clear as day. Take yourself a nap before Doctor Franklin arrives, alright?" 

"Doctor Franklin is not a medical professional." Thomas mumbled into his pillows. 

"Recently he's changed that. I suppose you miss things when you ignore all of your old friends, Thomas." 

With that, James turned off the lights and closed the door behind him, leaving Thomas to get even more rest.


End file.
